


Johnny Depp as...The Ultimate

by Suecue



Category: Johnny Depp - Fandom, Murder on the Orient Express (2017)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 13:19:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12818388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suecue/pseuds/Suecue
Summary: What sort of man does this? One possessed of masterful talent...and immoderate, enthralling larceny.





	Johnny Depp as...The Ultimate

You've swindled, Lenfranco, you've lied, you've done as you've pleased. A Chicago-based mafioso, working as a gun for hire. Money is all you truly love and you've begged, borrowed and stolen to get it. You've murdered too, and now that egregious sin you've committed has caught up with you. How much were you paid? Blood money in the worst possible sense. Her blood all over you, it crying out to you-why, why, why? Not only did you kill that innocent baby, that fair-haired, angel-faced love of Mr. and Mrs. Armstrong; you tortured her too before you snuffed the life out of poor, helpless Daisy. This wasn't the senseless slaughter of one child; you perpetrated this crime against all children, everywhere.

How could you have done such an abominable thing?

And, now...you're running scared, you scar-faced, amoral miscreant.

And well you should run, but there's nowhere to hide. You, one Samuel Edward Rachett, thought to hire Hercules Poirot to save you from harm, but fool that you are, you should've known better. He turned you down flat. And not because you concealed that gun beneath that fine linen napkin, aimed squarely at his chest. He rejected your scandalous offer because he despises your kind. Your filthy, evil, ruthless kind. You insulted him with such a suggestion, an intellect of his ilk and integrity. He sat at your table, ate some of your cake and sneered at you in your surly, prideful, mutilated face. He threw your threat back in your face with gusto. His demeanor and the tilt of his mustache taunting you.

You...the sad, sadistic creature that you are, dismissing your bravado and guff with his hauteur-honed look of disdain.

What had you been looking for? What had you seen when you'd burst into your private washroom within your compartment, your mobile hideout, having read yet another death threat, all the while staring at yourself in the mirror? Probing your countenance for answers. What were you? A man misunderstood? An evader of justice? You got away with murder...ha, ha, ha. Pity, you can't shake off the sinking feeling that someone's out to get you in your desperate quest for acquiring the finer things in life. Those elusive fineries you feel you're absolutely entitled to? Or, Cassetti, perhaps did you glimpse, the raving madman? Burdened by the conglomerate of the aforementioned. A lurid soul, bereft of humanity, a solitary man, possessed because of what you did.

Mrs. Hubbard, alias Linda Arden, a masterful actress, alias, wounded mastermind, had you pegged far longer than you realized. She'd done her homework. Little did you know, she had you marked for death at her hands and the hands of her volatile, disparate accomplices. Your beady eyes lit up when you caught sight of her, sashaying down the corridor of the luxury train car. You'd wanted her, already picturing this beauty squealing with delight in your arms. Once you got your hooks into a woman, you'd rip her to shreds. Women were playthings, disposables you regularly crumpled and threw away like flimsy, dirty tissues after you used them up. Despite her intense hatred for you, she hadn't been able to help herself, for having thought what a 'hot' man you were. Sleazy, but 'hot.' You had no idea how she'd internally reprimanded herself severely for thinking such sheer blasphemy. As you sized Hubbard up, undressing her with your twisted, vile eyes, she knew what she had in store for you... 

Death, sans mercy. Her eyes flashed, as had yours. A merciless death, exactly what you'd meted out to Daisy, her beautiful, three-year-old granddaughter.

Really, who kidnaps a sunny, giggly little girl and butchers her?

Whatever the case...twelve people judged you guilty and meted out the justice they thought you summarily deserved. A tangle of twelve lives interwoven, bent on balancing the scales of justice, struck as one. Never had any of them imagined they would be sharing passage with the world-renowned, genius detective, Poirot. What they did to you nearly cost the Belgian sensation his sanity, trying to unravel the mystery surrounding your grisly death.

Twelve bedeviled souls, who, by their actions, hoped to quell the agony you'd visited upon them by your unspeakable, barbarous, heinous act...

What drove you? Why, Cassetti? Why did you destroy that dear, sweet innocent?

Was it for love of money and luxury, or something even more insidious? More basely distorted? 

What had it been...What...What...What?

As that train slowly drifted away from the station in Brod, those avengers of Daisy's blood continued looking inward for answers they might never be sure of.


End file.
